Moon Musings #14–The Waking Poets

Joining with friends in a glorious leaf-lit walk on the High Park Labyrinth in Toronto, a certain move toward waking touched my poet’s heart. This waking began with a rustling of autumn leaves, a lavish Sun drawing Mercurial speech, a hard look at structures of modernity that may no longer be useful. With a new Moon, we enteed into a Mandala-like waking of deep and sometimes uncomfortable possibilities. With the migrating Red-Tailed Hawk, the afternoon slithering of the sunning serpant, I could sense an ensouled world trying to draw a shared speech into being. I’d like to share this with you.

We ward off wakefulness

peer through the slash in the waiting fieldimg_1795

like the Moon

on her haunches

ignoring the Sun.

Then night leaves

gathering her pride of dreams

her shroud

the foam of her waves of possibilities

her language of soil-bearing medals.

The handful of wakefulness we are

shatters the night

scattes words like stars

for we are the Waking Poets

living Mandalas, blood red, distant deep blue, rings of directed flight.

Our destination is carried in the conversation of treesimg_1794

in the blood where rustling, shimmering, become words.

Our blood seeps into the soil as eyes begin to speak,

our palm-carved lifelines

dialoguing with Earth.

By Lutia Lausane, copyright Just Peachy Productions, journey through All Soul’s week, 2016


2 thoughts on “Moon Musings #14–The Waking Poets

  1. Some beautiful photographs to enhance and, I gather, inspire the poetry. I was particularly drawn to the comparison between those searching their environment and the way the moon peers in over the planet. It added a slightly ethereal feel to a lovely read.

    • So glad to meet you through poetry, Michael. Yes, the trees and the roots, the activity in the near sky (hawks) and the distant cosmos gave me pause. So happy to have your response. Lutia

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